I was gifted a book by somebody who loved me About a man who got even with God Sat in hyperactive London's cold Central Station The city began sleeping like a dog
Then a tramp with one eye placed his hand on my thigh I said, "Hold it. Pick a window. You're leaving. " "Oh, do forgive me, " he sighed "I was a fan in my prime. " He must've thought I was somebody else
Here's to the fathers of the lost sons and the unholy ghosts It's the ones that seem destined to get left behind Interest me the most
On a street you've never heard of there's a wooden piano On its last legs in a last chance saloon It is manned by a drunkard who is dripping with poetry Sitting stupefied, nailed to the stool The man catches my gaze then produces this page From his waistcoat with a slip disk smile
"Look boy here is my last correspondence with Christ. " I tried to read it, but my glasses were filthy
Here's to the fathers of the lost sons and the unholy ghosts It's the ones who seem destined to get left behind Interest me the most I am the prodigal son, resting his head on the drum That was carried through the welcoming parade And I'd give all I have Sure, I'd give all I have Strip me bare, let me wash in the rains
Past the government housing right off Donaldson road Open collars and open hearts They swap anorexic lyrics for pyrotechnic rhymes As car lights knife their way through the dark Then this feeling persists We as people exist in a state of anticipation
You know it comes at a cost Or so the great unwashed have informed me And I tend to believe them these days
Here's to the fathers of the lost sons and the unholy ghosts It's the ones that seem destined to get left behind Interest me the most I am the prodigal son, resting his head on the drum That was carried through the welcoming parade And I'd give all I have I would give all I have Strip me bare, let me wash in the rains
Strip me bare, let me wash in the rains Or something freeing like that anyway
I was gifted a book by somebody who loved me About a man who got even with God